The Town Center and the Pub

“Can I pay with my looks?”

Our kids now cringe whenever I ask a clerk or waiter that question.  They were with me when I got the best answer from a checkout clerk at a convenience store in Long Island.

“I’m sorry sir, but the store does not carry enough change.”

Perfect! Had he been a waiter I would have tipped him generously.  From that time on I asked about paying with my looks at every opportunity just so I could share the best answer to that question.  And every time I asked in front of our kids, they rolled their eyes.

Then came the time I asked our waiter Tubby at what was the Wood Creek Bar and Grill in Norfolk.  I was there with Cindy in what we called the datemobile at the time, a wheelchair I used to get her around Norfolk.  I did not get to deliver the punchline this time because Tubby said “Sure!” and covered our tab.

Yes, I know.  Tubby did not cover our tab because of my looks, but rather because of my devotion to Cindy.  Another time at the pub strangers from another table also covered our tab.  The pub has been good to us in more ways than covering our tab, forming a big part of our story.  What is now called the Norfolk Pub has been a big part of many people’s stories.  But that is changing soon.

In the year 1800 the population of Norfolk was a little over 1600.  According to the 2020 census we are now a little under 1600.  In many ways Norfolk has been a steady town in the state of steady habits. I boast about that to outsiders as one of our charms.  Yet the town center reveals that not even Norfolk remains unchanged over time.

My earliest memories of the space now occupied by the pub was that of a post office.  Not until I left for college did the space first become a pub, Ken’s Pub. Some folks claimed their earliest memory of the pub to be that of Casey’s Bar and Grill.  Maybe my own memory fails me, but I remember Casey’s being located two buildings down, in what now is called Infinity Hall.  Also in the building was Mubarek’s Market, Norfolk’s grocery store at the time.  Mubarek’s became the Apple Store, still a place to get groceries.  Then the building became dormant for a few years before becoming a concert hall and bistro.

Across the street from the pub lies the Norfolk Hub, functioning to serve various community needs.  My earliest memories of this space was of Pallone’s Pharmacy that included a soda fountain and comic book section towards the rear.  I have a cherished memory of Tom Hester, a close friend of my brother Bob, taking me to the drug store for a sundae one day.  The pharmacy changed hands but retained an employee well known to everyone in town, Kevin O’Connor.

The Berkshire Country Store sits next to the Norfolk Hub.  The store carries a few groceries and has a deli instead of a soda fountain.  You can get the Holly’s Wild Child sandwich there, named after my niece who worked there early on.  You also can get cheerful conversation and treatment from Ryan Craig, the proprietor.

What you no longer can get there are the supplies from the Norfolk Hardware Store, my first memory of that space.  The Polinsky family became practically my next door neighbors when they first moved to town to start the store.  I remain good friends of the family, though they are no longer here.  Neither is a hardware store in town.

Across from the Berkshire Country Store lies Robertson Plaza, formerly a large patch of asphalt next to the Royal Arcanum Building that houses the pub.  The plaza features stairs that go down to a boardwalk around what we ironically call City Meadows.  This past summer I ran up and down the 58 steps of these stairs as much as fifty times, for a total of 2900 steps or over 1900 feet of ascending and descending. I parked Cindy in her red adult stroller at the top, looking out over the meadow towards Haystack Mountain (honestly a hill).

The Speckled Hen was another of the names of the pub, also Hawk’s Nest and Greenwoods Station.  As I run up and down the stairs I sometimes see employees of the pub bringing out trash to the bins in the back.  In past years our son Noah was one of those employees.  Noah worked for both the bistro and the pub at a crucial time in his life.  He is thriving now in large part because at one time he could walk to work, close to home.  The bistro is now closed and the pub soon will be.

I started writing this post while sitting at the bar of the pub.  This will be my last time here since Ken’s, Hawk’s Nest, Speckled Hen, Greenwoods Station, Wood Creek, Norfolk Pub will be closing for good at the end of the month.  Heidi Forler was the proprietor of the Wood Creek and Norfolk versions.  I had hoped to wish her well but on this Saturday the pub is swamped, despite the temperature being in the single digits.  Lots of folks want to wish Heidi well, to let her know what the pub meant to them.  In addition to good food she often served customers good hugs.

For me the pub meant a place of family gatherings.  When inviting a crowd for Cindy’s birthday was no longer practical, we instead had gatherings when our grandkids came to town (along with their parents).  During “outdoor season,” when I could get Cindy out in the stroller, our “dates” would be at the pub.

The pub also became the place for our anniversary celebrations.  I used to order as many chicken wings as years of marriage,with garlic parmesan our favorite.  That tradition ended as our marriage lasted way beyond Cindy’s life expectancy for early onset Alzheimer’s.  I just did not want to eat that many wings even as leftovers.

While sitting at the bar I get to chat with Lindsey Prevuznak, the bartender for over a decade.  She always asks me how Noah is doing.  To my left sits Glenn Derby, who went to school with my nephew Tom.  To my right Larry Hanaffin and Sally Carr sit down. Larry went to school with my brother Dave.  In the steadiest town in the state of steady habits, some families remain steady residents.

We all get to chatting.  I ask Sally to confirm some of my recollections for the town center.  She provides a few of her own, such as there once being five restaurants in town.  In a week there will be none.  Gone, along with a pharmacy, groceries and hardware store.  Gone, along with the Pallones and Polinskys.  Even in the steadiest of towns things change.

I leave my perch at the bar and bundle up for the cold walk home.  I take Lindsey’s picture, give Glenn a pat on the back and shake Larry’s hand.  I wished I could have gotten one last hug from Heidi, but I am warmed by the turnout and show of support that keeps her busy as the closing of the pub draws near.  I hope the proprietors around the town center remain steadily friendly and warm.